Wasting Away Again
by kyrdwyn
Summary: Grissom's plans for a night off (or, never write fan fiction two hours before a concert starts)


Title: Wasting Away Again  
  
Author: kyrdwyn  
  
Rating: G  
  
Archive: Fanfiction.net, my site eventually. Others, please ask first.  
  
Spoilers: "When the Coast is Clear" - one of my stories. http://www.geocities.com/toxicrev/coast.html  
  
Summary: Grissom's plans for a night off. Product of me and one of my beta readers having way too much time on our hands, some tequila, and getting to a concert two hours early.  
  
Disclaimer: I'm still playing with Mr. Bruckheimer's, Mr. Zuiker's, and Mr. Petersen's toys without permission. Come on! I can't afford toys like this on my own…(though if they want to give me Gil, I won't object!)  
  
Enjoy! kyrdwyn  
  
**~~~**~~~**~~~**~~~**~~~**~~~**  
  
"So, why is Grissom taking a night off? Bug conference in town? Roach races at the Sphere?"  
  
Catherine shrugged at the younger woman. "Who knows? He just said he was taking tonight off, I'm in charge, have fun, and don't call him, he's not taking his cell phone or pager."  
  
"Must be one heck of a roach race if he's not going to be in touch," Nick remarked as he pulled his sandwich from the fridge.  
  
"Think we'll ever find out what he's up to?" Warrick asked.  
  
"Only if we have Brass put a tail on him," Sara retorted. "Grissom's not one to say anything."  
  
Warrick nodded as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Still, be nice to know what is important enough to make Grissom take a night off."  
  
Sanders walked in. "Yeah, I know. Been checking out the happenings in town and nothing jumps up and screams 'Grissom', ya know?"  
  
Nick looked up to respond but stopped when he saw a stunning woman standing in the doorway. Creamy skin, deep blue eyes, and ebony hair with indigo highlights were just the beginning -- she also had a body to kill for, he thought idly. He usually preferred red-heads, but this woman was enough to make him change his mind. Except for the fact that she was dressed like Sanders.  
  
The woman walked over to where Warrick was and picked up a cup. "Is that coffee for anyone?"  
  
Warrick snapped out of his trance. "Uh, yeah." He poured her a cup.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"Nice shirt," Greg commented. The woman was wearing a brightly patterned shirt with impossible colored parrots perching on impossibly colored trees. She had matching parrot earrings in her hair, with a set of sharks dangling from the second piercing holes. Shark barrettes held most of her hair away from her face. Her jeans were covered with patches in the form of cheeseburgers and margarita glasses. The whole bizarre outfit made the Chicago Police Department ID card around her neck look really out of place.  
  
"One of my favorites," she said with a grin. She stepped forward to offer Greg her hand. "Madalyn Davis, Chicago Crime lab."  
  
"Greg Sanders, lab chemist. I didn't know we had any cases involving Chicago."  
  
"We don't," Sara said, eyeing the woman warily. Madalyn seemed to sense the woman's dislike and held up her hands in a gesture of peace.  
  
"I'm just here on vacation. I've got a friend who works in the lab."  
  
Catherine raised an eyebrow. "On vacation, in Las Vegas, and you spend it in a crime lab? Now why does that sound like Grissom's idea of a vacation?"  
  
Nick noticed the sudden gleam in Madalyn's blue eyes, but before he could call her on it, Brass appeared in the doorway. The normally cynical homicide captain had a befuddled look on his face.  
  
"Has the end of the world arrived and no one informed me?"  
  
Catherine's eyebrows met her hairline. "Not that I'm aware of. Why?"  
  
The man gestured to the hallway behind him. "I thought I just saw Grissom wearing jeans."  
  
Warrick spat his coffee back into his mug. "Jeans?"  
  
"It gets better. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt. A subdued one, but it was definitely Hawaiian."  
  
Madalyn arched an eyebrow as the rest of the team stared at each other, mouths open. "I take it this isn't Mr. Grissom's usual choice of attire?"  
  
Nick shook his head. "Slacks, shirts, and jackets. None of which really fit him, and most in dark colors."  
  
"Grissom's idea of a fashion statement is that plaid jacket," Warrick commented. Catherine grimaced and nodded her head.  
  
"Red plaid jacket," she added.  
  
Greg and Sara shook their heads. "I think I can beat that," Sara remarked.  
  
Greg grinned at her. "Tan jacket with the blue plaid shirt?"  
  
"Yes! It's horrible! I'm beginning to think the man is pattern and color blind…"  
  
"But jeans and a Hawaiian shirt? Was he abducted by aliens or something?" Catherine asked.  
  
"Or something." Grissom's voice from the doorway caused them all to jump before they turned and looked at him. He was leaning against the doorjamb, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Brass was right - it was a Hawaiian shirt. A very dark blue shirt with the pattern just a shade lighter. He stood there with a half smile on his face, almost daring anyone to say anything.  
  
"So, Grissom, not that I mind you raiding my closet, but what's the occasion man?" Greg finally asked.  
  
"I'm not raiding your closet. I've had this shirt for a while."  
  
"Uh-huh. It's just been held hostage for the past few years?" Catherine asked disbelievingly.  
  
"Never had a reason to wear it." His eyes moved from Catherine to Madalyn. "Ready?"  
  
Madalyn grinned as she poured out the rest of her coffee. "As long as you are driving, because I plan on being less than sober at the end of the evening."  
  
"When in Margaritaville…."  
  
"Drink lots of margaritas!" Madalyn said as she joined Gil in the doorway.  
  
Greg was the first to put it together. "You two are going to see Jimmy Buffett?"  
  
"Yes, we are." Gil put his arm around Madalyn's shoulders. "Have fun tonight. I plan to," he winked at Madalyn. She grinned at him and waved at the others.  
  
"Nice to meet you all!" She and Gil left the break room with the others still staring. Out in the car, Madalyn couldn't stop giggling. "I thought I was going to be collecting eyeballs in evidence bags all night."  
  
"I'm afraid I don't follow --"  
  
"Their eyes were practically popping out of their heads, Gil. I don't think they expected to see you in jeans. Or that shirt."  
  
He smiled as he merged into traffic. "Every once in a while I like to remind them that they really don't know me."  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"So, are the jeans and shirt are okay, Ms. Parrot-head?"  
  
Madalyn turned and gazed at Gil with a critical eye. "Yes. But I think you look even better out of them." 


End file.
